


Random Shuffle Challengefic

by NovemberTuesday



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Challenge Response, Drabbles, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:58:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberTuesday/pseuds/NovemberTuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1.  Pick a character, fandom, pairing, friendship, theme, etc.<br/>2.  Put on your music program on shuffle/random and start playing songs.<br/>3. For each song, write something inspired by the song related to the theme you chose earlier. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs unless you’re completely stuck – this is meant to be a challenge.<br/>4. Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Random Shuffle Challengefic

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any posting errors; I'm a newb to this site!

Gone - Brandi Carlile  
Spencer hates this song. This singer used to be a favorite but the droning fits his despondent mood. Derek has gone to Chicago to be with his mother and sisters. His own mother is in the throes of a psychotic frenzy involving him and the government, and the doctor warned him not to come.  
He pushes his greasy hair back from his face, and closes his eyes.

Red House - Jimi Hendrix  
Morgan plows to the rhythm, vintage Jimi. Underneath him Garcia’s brow is furrowing, despite her tight wetness.  
“What’s wrong, Chocolate Adonis?”  
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, punctuating it with a thrust.  
She moaned involuntarily, then opened her eyes and scooted out from under him. “No... No, lovely as you are, and your phenomenal cock, this isn’t right.”  
“Penelope-” His cock, unmoored from her warmth, is cold and despondent.  
“I’m not the one you want to be with.”  
“Mama-”  
“No. You need to tell him.”  
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. 

Blue - A Perfect Circle.  
He is in the dark, full dark which eats up everything around him. The pain comes and goes in layers, restraints tight on his arms, and all he has is a name on the tip of his tongue like a burning ember. He doesn’t dare release it into the dark, but he remembers. In this dark, the memories hurt like the rest of him. Lips and fingers and breath, shocked breath at the first and only time they touched. That sweet swoop of adrenaline in his gut, the way his cock was hard under calloused hands, the scent of cologne.  
Morgan, he thinks. But he won’t say it. 

Over Now - Coverdale Page  
The day draws on him like a parasite. Sugar-laden coffee does nothing for the natal headache at the back of his sinuses, and the hyper-awareness of his team members, the constant effort to act and look “normal” is exhausting. But he’s doing it, keeping up appearances among profilers.  
At lunch time, he doesn’t ask anyone to join him. He can hear JJ and Prentiss murmuring about Chinese. He stands up, swiftly, decisively, feeling just a little bit like rock and roll on the inside. He swoops his messenger bag over his shoulder and walks to the elevator alone, feeling the first bit of his  
power returning to him. 

Fire - U2  
Reid’s eyes open wide, and he hisses out his breath as Derek touches the skin of his neck. He stands there, unmoving, yet eyes wild and triumphant, as those paint-splattered fingers tug his hair for the first time. Reid makes a sound that’s vaguely feminine as lust curls rough in his belly.  
Derek’s mouth is rough and perfect, stubble, lips moving furiously on his neck, nibbling, moving to Reid’s mouth. There, Morgan gives a guttural groan, a confession that he’s wanted this for so long.  
Reid kisses back, just as hard, all male, fighting for dominance as he briefly takes Morgan’s lip between his teeth, nips hard, then soothes with his sweet tongue. 

The Cure - Homesick  
Reid stares out the window of his new office. Boxes of books, half unpacked, litter the room. He is lucky to have a window, and it looks out over the quad. Down there college kids walk from class to class, and he feels so old. Used up inside, despite all he has to offer.  
The universities fought for him in a recruiting war, The FBI Academy was too close. Carnegie Mellon, MIT, UVA, Harvard, even. He misses the BAU like a physical pain, followed quickly by the shame of not being able to act normal after it all exploded with Derek. “For the best,” he hears Hotch saying. 

Tool - 4 Degrees  
I am not a fucking kid, he thinks. More than this spindly body tied to a goalpost. Always bumbling, awkward, missing the point. He walks faster as the familiar self-loathing wells up from its home deep inside. He thinks of Morgan’s obscenely swelled chest, those absurd arms, and anger rises in his own chest. They all think he’s cute. Like a fucking juvenile BAU mascot.  
The psychologist inside recognizes his own mistake. Cognitive distortion. But the anger feels too good, and he frankly doesn’t give a shit.  
He is not a kid.

Dave Matthews Band - Crash Into Me  
Saturday stretches forever. The sheets in this new room are clean and soft. Her warm skin and her blue eyes are full of stories. He feels stronger, bigger, above her. He even feels somewhat sexually competent as he kisses a trail up her soft calf, up her thigh. She moans as if he were a god, and for a second he feels it is true.  
He is inside her, and it is motion and sweetness. She is so wet, and he slips so easily. His boy’s dream of so many years ago, spread out before him. Desire from a time before his desires turned rougher and darker and altogether different.  
He is inside her and her lips breathe into his and her body is warm and alive under him and with her it is so easy, unlike what he really wants.

Alannah Myles - Black Velvet  
The BAU is at a Karaoke bar, and mostly drunk. Particularly Emily, Garcia, and JJ, who croon the lyrics to Black Velvet at the top of their lungs. Hotch and Rossi look on, amused, and Morgan raises a perplexed eyebrow.  
Spencer smiles, and his amused expression is perfectly normal for the situation. Underneath that smile, his thoughts are swarming, and he is envisioning the most glorious miscegenation, brown skin on ivory, filling and writhing and quickening. He doesn’t dare look at Morgan. He just smiles, and nobody notices him at all. 

The Verve Pipe - Freshmen

They stand at the gravesite, flowers quivering on top of the dark casket, baby’s breath in the wind. Their bodies feel bruised, they stand stiffly in black suits, cold wind chapping tears from their faces. Some of them are tearless and stony faced. Some of them feel altogether ill.  
Morgan is remembering laughter and words flowing like water, statistics strewn like confetti, and the feeling of skin and on skin, and despite the box on the ground he smiles through his tears. He will be sixty-eight next month.  
Their life together was not the longest, but it was the best, and he smiles. He feels Garcia’s warm hand on his back. He feels his own heart, large and heavy, a strange physical sensation. It’s still beating in rhythm, going on.  
Soon they will converge at the house, and they will tell stories about Spencer, and they will laugh through their tears. 

Duran Duran - Midnight Sun

There are times I look at him differently, like I’ve never seen him before. Without a thought in his pretty genius head, he takes all my expectations and turns them on end. I thought his smile would be so easy to capture, the way its corners turn up. I thought it would be me on top, but when he has me covered, I’m turned out so nicely, and when he bites my ear, I shudder and come harder than I ever have before.  
He’ll always know how to find me.


End file.
